


Beginnings

by dellanarn



Series: As Golarion Turns [1]
Category: Glass Cannon Podcast
Genre: Agender Character, Other, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellanarn/pseuds/dellanarn
Summary: You make it feel like time has stopped and it’s just the two of us.





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry that this exists.....please do yourself a favor and don't read it. It's gay and I'm bad. I mean, it's bad and I'm gay.

Rowan leaned against the stone walls of the training grounds, using the shadows of the morning sun to hide their presence. Two of the men that had helped them when they needed it, Lorc Irontusk (a ridiculous name) and Gelabrous Finn (not much better, if they’re being honest) are sparring in the center of the small arena.

Gelabrous has put on some muscle, especially after the Battle of Bloodmarch Hill, but Lorc is countering all his strikes like they’re nothing. Lorc’s jaw is clenched and sweat is running down his brow, already falling victim to summer heat. Every one of Gelabrous’ strikes on Lorc’s buckler draws forth a grunt from him, but it’s starting to sound a lot more like frustration than effort.

Rowan turns their attention to Gelabrous. His stance is acceptable, but he’s not throwing his body into the swing. After every hit he backs up a step and goes back in, same punches, over and over. Sweat stains his light tunic, evidence of a long session. He throws his arm and Lorc blocks it with the buckler, then uses the momentum to shove it into Gelabrous’ chest, knocking him to the stone floor. He hits hard, not expecting to be knocked over and lets out a groan. He looks up at Lorc, and Rowan can see now the same frustrated look on his face. They move out of the shadows and up to the two men before they can start an argument. 

“Hello boys, you’re up early,” they greet them, patting Lorc on the (sweaty) shoulder as they extend a hand to help Gelabrous up. “Aren’t you still supposed to be on bed rest?”

Gelabrous takes Rowan’s extended hand and hefts himself up with their help. “Aren’t you?” he counters with a smile, only letting go of their hand when Lorc clears his throat.

“Pssh, don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rowan waves their hand dismissively before turning to Lorc. “Passed by the Patrol House on my way here, Kurst wants to see you.”

Lorc’s shoulders relax and Rowan can hear his jaw click open when he replies. “Does he, now? Sorry, Gel, but I have to report to our new Patrol Sergeant. Do you want to pick this up again in a couple days?”

Gelabrous’ eyes drop to the floor as he huffs out a sigh. “Yes, I suppose. I will need the practice if I ever hope to improve.”

Rowan winked at Lorc. “Well, I can spar with you.”

Gelabrous’ eyes meet theirs, and Maker’s breath, were they always that bright? “Truly? I do not wish to impose.”

Rowan offers him a smile. “You wouldn’t be. I need someone to spar with as well. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor.” Lorc’s muffled snort of laughter was not helpful, but Gelabrous didn’t seem to get the joke. Before he could ask, Lorc clapped him on the shoulder and began gathering his things.

“You heard the lady,” Lorc said over his shoulder as he stuffed his gear back into his bag. He tossed the bag over his shoulder and headed towards the door. “Go easy on him, Rowan.” They let out a guffaw as Gelabrous wished him farewell, Lorc waving as he shut the door behind him.

Rowan was still chuckling when Gelabrous turned back to them, not quite meeting their eyes. Rowan cocked their head, crossing their arms and waiting for him to make eye contact again. After a beat he looked back up, determination in his eyes as he seemed to make a decision. 

“How would you like to begin?” he asked, adjusting the gloves on his hands, his accent more pronounced than it was before. Rowan stifled a giggle of all things, Maker preserve them, but switched to business mode.

“I was watching you practice and I know where we need to start,” Rowan began, dropping their bag to the ground and pulling out their sparring gloves. They put one on before looking up at Gelabrous in time to catch the grimace on his face. “Something the matter?”

“How long were you watching?”

“A minute or so, but that was enough to see where you’re at,” Rowan adjusted their gloves after standing back up, kicking their bag off to the side. “Get in your stance, arms up, ready to deck an orc in the face.”

He shifted his weight and spread his feet farther apart. So good so far, Rowan thought, but when he put his arms up it weakened the stance, putting his center of gravity too high. Rowan walked around him once before coming to stand in front of him. They reached out and shoved a palm into his chest, forcing him backwards onto the ground again. Rowan offered their hand to him, and Gelabrous took it after a second, dusting himself off when he righted himself. 

“Let’s start with your stance. You need to keep your center of gravity lower, or else everyone is going to push you over like I just did. Do you want to be a pushover?”

He shook his head. “No. How do I accomplish this?”

“Get in your stance again.” After he complied, Rowan moved behind him. He flinched when Rowan set their hands on his waist, but didn’t pull away from them. Rowan moved his hips in the correct position, then kicked his feet further apart. “When you keep your weight balanced, you can’t be knocked down as easily,” Rowan moved in front of him, demonstrating the proper way to hold your arms. Gelabrous copied them pretty well, but they pushed his shoulders down before he got it. “This stance also lets you put your weight behind your fists, making you a more effective fighter. Any questions so far?”

Gelabrous cocked an eyebrow at them but didn’t move from the position. “I thought we were going to be sparring?”

“Hold your horses Gelabrous, we’re getting there,” Rowan chuckled. “I have to show you how to punch first.”

Gelabrous eyes widened and he gasped. “Excuse me! I can punch just fine, thank you very much!”

“Alright, punch me then.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Rowan couldn’t keep the smile off their face even as they goaded him on. “Punch me right here,” they tapped their cheek with one finger, “and mean it!”

“I-I couldn’t possibly hit a lady,” Gelabrous stammered out, lowering his fists. “And most certainly not in the face!”

“Didn’t you want the spar with me, Gelabrous?” He continued to stammer out excuses until Rowan held up their hand to stop him. “Just punch me in the face. I can take it, promise.”

Gelabrous swallowed, lifting his arms back up slowly, still unsure. “Do you promise? Not going to cry or anything?”

“You’re funny. Punch me in the face.”

He reached one arm back, swung and hit Rowan directly on the cheek. Rowan considered dropping to the ground and sobbing, but they did want to actually teach him, not sit and joke around, as nice as that sounded. Rowan turned their head back to look at Gelabrous, and was met with him grabbing their face, turning it so he could see the damage that he (did not) cause. 

“Rowan, I’m so sorry- are you alright- I really didn’t- I mean-” his words tumbled on top of one another in their effort to get out, his voice raising in pitch as they didn’t respond, distressing him further. 

“Gelabrous! Gelabrous, I’m _fine-_ I told you,” Rowan pulled his hands away from their face, meeting his wide, frantic eyes with their own deadpan stare. “You don’t know how to punch. You couldn’t hurt a fly with that.”

“O-oh. Um,” he let go of their hands awkwardly. “Y-you didn’t respond right away, and-”

“Gelabrous-”

“You can call me Gel.” He didn’t meet their eyes, finding his shoes much more fascinating.

“Gel. I’m fine. I can take it, which you have to learn if you want to spar with me. Now let me teach you how to punch.”

He shyly met their eyes, a smile forming on his lips. “Yes, teacher.”


End file.
